Logical Elven Way
by MornieGalad
Summary: This is a Lord of the RingsStar Trek crossover. The story begins at last alliance and follows what happens when two powerful forces meet. Please read and review.
1. Default Chapter

**The Logical Elven Way**

**Chapter one Diverse Battlefields.**

The battle raged vigourously on Mount Doom; the ground was stained with the blood of elves, men and orcs. Elrond Peredhel forced his way through the lines to take his place beside Gilgalad, the elven king. It seemed victory was near for the small alliance of elves and men. A smile touched the half elf's face as the thought that he had helped save Middle Earth played through his mind. He was still young by the standards of the elven race, but was learned enough to know much of Sauron and the ease of this victory surprised him.

Gilgalad, however, was not so certain of the enemy's defeat. It was true that the orc lines were thinning and seemed quite demoralized, but the elf could not banish the sense of dread from his mind. In his heart, the elven lord knew the worst was yet to come. Sauron had yet to mount his true force.

Just as Elrond came up beside him, Gilgalad felt a tremble surge through the ground. the two elves exchanged glances and all cockiness left Elrond's expression. Een Elendil and Isildur, who were fighting nearby, could sense the approach of the dreaded evil, which could not yet be seen. Behind their leaders the armies scattered in terror. Of the men, only Elendil and Isildur remained; Of the elves, Gilgalad, Elrond and Cirdan stood firm. From the darkness of Mordor the most sinister figure in ennorath began to emerge. In a rush of violence Gilgalad was struck down and Elrond sped to his side. the breath was still in the elven king, and he opened his eyes at Elrond's touch. Beyond them, Elendil fell and his son Isildur bent in mourning Souron viciously approached the distracted prince, despite Cirdan's attempts to ward him off. Then, in a blur of action, a wae of power rushed through Mordor with a blinding light. When sight retrunded to him, Cirdan looked around. In the distance he saw the alliance standing unnopposed; around him was only a barren wasteland, save the body of Elendil. He rose and respectfully approached the king, but stopped when he saw a stream of smoke rising from a small area beside the body.

"Elrond, Elrond, nin hirion," Gilgalad called. The land about him burned his fair skin and was drier thean anything the elf lord had ever felt in his long life, which was coming to a close. He could sense himself dying, and could have given in to death's sweet repose, but he still had one last thing to accomplish. He must speak to Elrond, his heir.

"I am here, nin hiru," Elrond replied coming to the warrior's side.

"Are you unscathed?"

"Yes, my lord, I am well." Gilgalad winced as a bright light blinded him and his body began to go numb. "Mani naa ta aranin(what is in my king?"

"Sauron's wound is fatal, my heir. Beware of him, for his power has not yet ended. Protect this world, Peredhel." the elen king pressed the cld metal of a ring into Elrond's hand. The younger warrior closed his own hand around that of the dying iking and there it remained until Gilgalad's arm went limp and death was evident upon his face. Only then did Elrond take heed of Isildur, who stood beside him.

"What has become of the great threat?" the man aksed, almost mockingly.

"I think the more urgent question, Isildur, son of Elendil, is this: where are we?"

Cirdan gazed at the golden thing beside the high king's body. It appeared to be an ordinary ring, yet it burned as if it possessed a great power. Thw elf cautiously bent himself and scooped it up. It's touch was not even warm to his bare hands and he fingered it, quite entranced. Upon its smooth surface were firy letters, but Cirdan feared to read them. As he turned the ring, the writing seemed to fade away, and the elf wondered if he had seen it at all. eventually, recalling Elendil's broken body beneath him, Cirdan placed the ring in his scabbard alongside his sword and turned his attention to the corpse.

As the elf prepared to bear the king to his army, an elven messenger raced toward him, appearing quite flustered.

"Nin hiru, Cirdan," he adressed him. "Where is lord Gilgalad?"

"I do not know. When I arose I discovered only the corpse of the great Elendil and a strange ring." The messenger looked thoughtful.

"Perhaps their disappearance relates to the appearance of four strangers among the warriors. The carry the same weapons we do, but are quite confused." The messenger said. Cirdan did not respond, but secretly thought this was an odd occurrence. kAs he and the messenger bore the corpse to the host of elves and men, Cirdan felt his scabbaard growing heavier. At last they came to the gathering. The warriors parted before the dead king's escort which carried the body to a tent and laid him in a bed. Cirdan litcandles about the corpse and adorned it with the Gondorian's possessions: his shield, the crown of Gondor, and Narsil, which was now shattered. ONce the elf had performed the ceremonious preparations, he left the tent and many soldiers assembled to honor their fallen king.

"I shall lead you to the strange ones, heru en amin," the messenger who had accompanied Cirdan told him. The elder elf nodded and followed the other through the mass of warriors.


	2. The Needs of the Moment

_Disclaimer: I don't own it, Star Trek or Lord of the Rings. I'm in control of everything else, though, so mwahaha. _

**Chapter 2:**

**The needs of the Moment **

Elrond heard footsteps behind him as he and Isildur stood over the place where they had buried Gilgalad's body. It had no proper identification, save his cloak, which was blowing about in the wind, trying to break free of Aiglos, Gilgalad's spear, which the pair had stuck into the cloak to keep it stationery. Elrond turned into the wind, protecting his eyes from the blowing sand with his shield, looking for any sign of the creator of the footsteps he had heard. In the blinding gusts of sand which were swarming about him, he made out the dark outline of a figure as tall as he, standing atop a hill just above them. He tapped Isildur on his cheek, as his shoulders were armored, and motioned for him to follow in the direction of the figure. Up the dune they trod, sinking into the sand due to the weight of their armor. They could hardly see beyond the sandstorm combined with their long hair whipping into their eyes. Not far behind him, Elrond heard Isildur grunting with effort. Although the trek was difficult, Elrond focused his attention on the silhouette, which became gradually nearer. Amazingly, the figure had not moved in any direction, to the right or left, or otherwise. As he drew nearer, the elf saw through the veil of sand that the figure wore a dark brown cloak, its hands immersed in its sleeves, which were joined together. When he was nearly at the top of the enormous dune, a hand emerged from the end of the left sleeve, which had been released from the other, and grasped Elrond's armored arm to help him up. Isildur arrived moments later. The hooded figure beckoned to them to follow it and started off. The two armored warriors followed, sinking into the sand with every step and battling to move the sand filled metal of their protesting outfits.

* * *

"Greetings, commander," a tall person with short, dark hair, olive skin, and pointy ears addressed Cirdan. The messenger had brought the elf to this man and three others who were with him. All of them had short, black hair, just as he, save for their female companion, who had lighter skin and long, curly brown hair. This was the only feature which made them suspicious, but it was enough. It wasn't as if Cirdan distrusted them, he merely didn't believe he had ever seen them, or anyone like them, before.

"What are your names?" the commander demanded. The female stepped forward, but the man in front, who had greeted Cirdan, held her back.

"I am Spock. This is Savic," he held his left hand out open to the woman. "This is Novac and Rathac." The other two bowed, briefly. Cirdan raised an eyebrow.

"What is the origin of your names?" he asked. "It's certainly not elvish, and you are neither dwarves nor humans." Once again, Savic shot a meaningful look at Spock.

"We have become lost. Could you kindly tell us where we are?" she inquired.

'I will tell you where you are if you tell me where you are from," Cirdan agreed.

"We come from far away," Spock replied.

"That could be anywhere," Cirdan countered. "What is your home called?"

"Home," Spock answered.

"What is its name?" Cirdan demanded, not even slightly amused.

"I do not remember. Somehow I remember very little from the time before we arrived here. I do not even know how we came to be in this place, nor where we are."

"You are amidst the ruins of what was, until recently, Mordor," Cirdan informed him. He did not entirely believe the stranger, but rationalized that he would discover the truth of their whereabouts in time. Either that or the strangers would leave. Regardless, it was improbable that these four people could do much harm surrounded by the forces of the elves and men, for although theirnumberhad dwindled considerably due to the results of the battle, they still greatly outnumbered these few strange beings.

"Would you permit us to use a tent, sir? Savic is injured and needs rest," Spock requested.

"Certainly. Would you like me to send a healer to you?"

"No," Savic replied. "I only require a bit of ret before I am fully functional once more." Cirdan nodded and led them through the battlements. As they progressed, the men threw suspicious looks at the newcomers. They didn't seem to heed this, though, but made no attempts at being friendly either. They kept their faces serious, and Novac and Rathac stared straight ahead beyond Spock and Savic. The other two let their eyes wander, but every other part of their being was motionless, save their legs, which carried them in the direction in which Cirdan led them. They came to a vacant blue-grey tent, the one Gilgalad and Elrond had inhabited, and Cirdan drew back the entrance flap, his mind suddenly contemplating his companions' fates. Spock, who had been in the lead, stepped aside to allow the others to enter before him.

"Thank you," he said, facing Cirdan, before bending over and disappearing into the folds of the tent.

* * *

"Welcome to Vulcan," Elrond and Isildur's guide greeted them once they were sheltered within a bronze colored building. He removed his hood, revealing a tanned face beaten by the sun, short, snow-white hair, wizened brown eyes, a kind, yet unsmiling, mouth, and, to Elrond's surprise, pointed ears. "I am Sarek."

"I am Isildur, son of Elendil, King of Gondor, and this is Elrond, herald of Gilgalad. Thank you for bringing us here. We are in your debt." Sarek bowed briefly and slightly extended his right hand.

"It is always a privilege to shepherd guests to a safe haven."

"Do many guests come here?" Elrond inquired, hoping to discover if this man knew how they had come to be on Vulcan.

"Yes, many peoples from various places come here to seek knowledge. Is that why you have come?" Elrond hesitated. The question had caught him unprepared to answer. Isildur apparently felt the same way, for he immediately tried to conspicuously remove some of the sand from the joints of his armor. Seeing their hesitation, Sarek asked, "Would you like to be shown to your quarters?"

"Were you expecting us?" Elrond asked, slightly surprised.

"No. I knew nothing of your arrival until I chanced to see you froma window just before the sandstorm began. We always have many guest rooms available because of the many visitors we receive."

"So this is your house?" Isildur asked.

"Yes."

"It's quite convenient." Elrond heard a note of suspicion rising in the Gondorian's voice.

"We would be honored if you would show us to our quarters," the elf decided quickly. Sarek bowed once more and turned toward a flight of stairs. He was followed by the creaking sound of the sand in the metal joints of the armor protesting to movement. Elrond was merely grateful they were no longer sinking into a sea of sand. That had been an awful feeling, he thought, shuddering. He had felt so utterly helpless.

None of them spoke until they arrived at a bronze room. Sarek gestured them inside.

"I will return when the evening meal has been prepared. I will see you then."

"Until then," Elrond replied, bowing, and Sarek left their company.

* * *

"How did we get here?" Savic asked of no one in particular. Spock had taken to pacing about the tent and sighed before replying. 

"As I have told you ten times before, Mister Savic, I have no idea. The only logical conclusions are that either some force outside of ourselves consciously placed us here or that it was mere coincidence." If Vulcans had emotions, Novac would have been quite annoyed. This had essentially been the extent of their conversation, save for the initial determination that none of them had ever heard the name of Mordor. Among the lot, Rathac was the only one who appeared truly calm. Spock was muttering under his breath, trying to find a way to gain some information while not violating the prime directive. A deep crevice was forming in the earth over the path he had now trod so many times. Savic was working over the same problems, but caged the words in her head, with the occasional question and answer ritual she and Spock were becoming quite fond of, performing it every few minutes. Neither of them seemed to be progressing on any sort of plan, either of gaining information or returning to Vulcan. Novac's accomplishment wasequally unworthy of acknowledgment, as his only words applied to how primitive the society was and how they were still wearing armor and fighting with swords and shields, andbows and arrows. Rathac, who had been leaning against the side of the tent a few feet away from Novac and opposite Spock (at the moment), suddenly rose. He stepped over Savic's legs, who hadn't really been wounded, and went to the back of the tent. There stood a table with a suit of armor placed on it. It was complete with a shield, sheathe, sword, and helmet. Rathac wondered why it was there instead of in use by a member of the army. He found no clues to the mystery upon examination of the object, although he inspected it diligently. The only unusual thing he found was a silver star engraved on the breast of the armor as well as the shield. Thinking through his knowledge of history, Rathac supposed this was the insignia of a country or the symbol of a leader. Pondering this, Rathac formed an idea.

"Captain Spock," Rathac called. Spock didn't look at him or stop pacing. "Captain Spock, I have an idea." The pacing Vulcan now stopped and looked Rathac in the eyes.

"Proceed, ensign," Rathac reminded himself that this gave him permission to speak, not to jump right into carrying out his plan.

"Captain, if I am not mistaken, we need to learn more about our environment and the circumstances of our arrival."

"That is a correct assessment of the situation."

"Suppose one of us were to disguise as a soldier and interact with these people. If we said nothing of Vulcan or the federation, it would be permissible, correct?"

"Yes."

"You are not putting me in that rusty outfit," Novac objected, rising from his seated position.

"Of course not," Spock answered. "If anyone is to go, it should be ensign Rathac. I would be missed because I have made myself obvious to the commander, and Mister Savic would be illogical because of the lack of females present. Ensign," he addressed Rathac, "do not leave until after it is quite dark and be certain that no one will see you emerge from this tent. Return before the dawn, so you will not be seen entering. I will brief you on proper actions for this mission."

_I apologize if I mispelled Sarek or Savic's names. Please let me know in either case MornieGalad_


	3. Logical Courses of Action

1_Disclaimer: I do not own this. Also, please do not flame me for the use of an inauthentic Vulcan word. It is one word and I admit that it is not truly Vulcan in origin, but it was necessary to connect the two worlds_

_Word to know: "Varda" is the elvish name of the Queen of the Valier. For those of you who knew that, no offense to your intelligence is intended. _

_Now for the story. MornieGalad_

**Chapter Three:**

**Logical Courses of Action**

When darkness fell, Rathac slipped the flap of the tent aside and, with as much grace as he could muster, stepped forth. Within this facade, he was indistinguishable from any of the other warriors, save by his slightly clumsy walk due to the excess weight of the armor. Without so much as a look back at his companions, he set off toward the light of a distant campfire. As he passed through the groups of soldiers, few paid him any mind. Many of them were asleep in their own tents and the rest were sitting and talking around the fires.

"Do you mind if I join you?" Rathac asked as he came to a fire near the center of the camp. One of the armored men indicated that he should come sit beside him.

"It's a lovely night," Rathac commented, unsure how to start a conversation. Indeed, the stars above them shone very brightly. The man beside Rathac nodded, but said nothing. He was intent on listening to the soldier who was speaking. In the light of the fire, Rathac saw that it was Cirdan, the Elf who had shown him and his comrades to their tent. The Vulcan silently reminded himself that he needed to be certain he wasn't recognized as an outsider; Captain Spock had greatly emphasized that point. Rathac turned his face slightly away from the fire and listened to the tale Cirdan was relating.

"So Elendil died. I do not know what fate befell Gilgalad, Isildur, and Elrond, but I searched for a while and found no signs of any of them. I did come across a strange ring after the battle, though." One of the men beside Rathac laughed.

"Quiet, lad!" an elderly voice rebuked him from Rathac's other side. "Do not mock what you do not know." The man turned to Cirdan. "Could the whispers have been true, then? Did the dark lord indeed create a ring more powerful than the others?"

"I do not know," Cirdan replied. After a moment, he continued. "May the Valar help me to keep this ring, whatever its nature may be, safe." It took Rathac a moment to process all this. In this world, there was a dark lord, who had somehow disappeared. He might have made a powerful ring and now Cirdan possessed it. Would the logical thing not be to destroy it and purge all memories of the dark lord from this land? Rathac could think of no reason not to do so unless it would cause devastation to follow that path. He should not jump to conclusions so quickly, though, he reminded himself. He had to be calm and truly understand this world. What would Captain Spock do in his position? He would try to gain more information, of course.

"What did this ring look like?" Rathac asked, figuring it was a harmless question, even if it seemed trivial.

"It is a plain ring, really. It wasn't decorated with anything. It is a simple, golden ring," Cirdan was obviously reluctant to display the ring for all to see. Rathac could almost see the conflict within the Elf. The man beside him, who had laughed at Cirdan, now shook his head.

"What is your opinion on the matter, sir?" Rathac inquired.

"They are all making a terrible tragedy from this trinket. If it is indeed Sauron's ring, it will have little power now that he is no more."

"Did you yourself see Sauron's defeat?" Rathac asked.

"Only from a distance, but I saw it."

"How can we be certain that the Dark one is gone forever. A thing does not cease to exist simply because one cannot see it. For example, the wind cannot be seen, yet no one questions its existence."

"Neither can the Valar be seen, unless they choose to take physical form," said the old man, smiling at Rathac.

"You can feel both those things, though," the youth countered.

"I can sense a dark presence here, be it in a shadow of the past or the truth of the present," Rathac said, carefully selecting his words. Cirdan nodded in agreement.

"You are both lunatics, scared of a nightmare that has passed. I take my leave," scoffed the youth. "Farewell for tonight, father," he addressed the old man.

"Do you and your son always disagree so violently?" Rathac asked.

"Only in the matter of politics like these. You will have to forgive him for not introducing himself. His name is Boromir," the old man said, his eyes following his son.

Sarek, Elrond and Isildur sat at the table in the dining area, each attired in Vulcan robes. Isildur looked noticeably uncomfortable beside Sarek at the round table. From another room, a human woman with long white hair entered, carrying the food she had prepared in her arms.

"Sirs, this is my wife, Amanda. Amanda, this is Elrond and this is Isildur, who have come to us."

"Where have you come from?" Amanda asked curiously as they began to eat. She sat down on the other side of her husband.

"We came from a place known as Mordor, which is in Ennorath, or, as it is called in the common tongue, Middle Earth. I do not know how we came to be here."

"Was there any sort of power surge before you arrived here?" Sarek asked after a moment of meditation. Elrond focused upon the memory.

"I believe there was a sort of shock wave when Sauron was destroyed. I couldn't be certain, though, for the next thing I knew, we were here, trudging through the sand." Sarek nodded thoughtfully.

"For now, let us presume that you were sent here by some powerful force, perhaps the shock wave. Were you near to its origin?"

"We were at the very center of it," Isildur answered, raising his head, a strange light reflected in his eyes. Sarek nodded again.

"Then it is logical that you may have been the only ones on your earth to be affected, but there is, for every action, an equal and opposite reaction. Perhaps others from another world have been sent to your world."

In his tent far away, Captain Spock was pondering the same thing while awaiting Rathac's return. He was reflecting upon the events that had transpired just before their arrival. They had been aboard the Vulcan ship _Varda,_ which interpreted as "kindred" in their native tongue, each his of them at his respective position upon the bridge. Spock had been watching the view screen, barely any distance separating him from the stars. Novac had been at the science officer's post, working busily to impress Captain Spock, his hands flying over his instruments and his dark eyes darting occasionally to glance at the legendary figure. Saavik had stood behind Rathac, the calm helmsman. Suddenly, without warning, one of the nearby stars exploded, binding them all. When they recovered their sight, they had found themselves within the battle lines of this army. 'Why here?' Spock wondered. Perhaps Rathac would provide them with more information when he returned.

"He should have returned by now," Novac complained. Spock raised an eyebrow.

"The longer Rathac stays with these people and engages them in conversation, the more beneficial his time will have been."

"That would be a logical conclusion," Novac said, bowing his head. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Granted."

"The longer Rathac is there, the greater our chances of them discovering us become. I do not intend to demean Ensign Rathac, but the more he says, the more likely he is to slip and reveal our true identities."

"I realize this, but I believe the people have already become suspicious of our origins. Rathac is well disguised and I trust his abilities."

"I hope your faith is not misplaced, Captain. Ensign Rathac is young."

"He may be young, but he is also wise and courageous," Saavik gently said. "The captain of his previous vessel said he had saved their ship upon several occasions and that he is a valued officer." Novac nodded, though he felt a twinge of jealousy take him. He quickly repressed it, his eyes never leaving Spock's form. Had Spock seen the green twinkle in his eye? The Captain's face had remained unchanged, but that was of little assurance to Novac. Breaking the bond between their eyes, Spock lay down, facing the door of the tent, and began his meditation. Saavik followed his example. Both bodies relaxed and it seemed they were outside of the physical world and time. They saw nothing, but felt everything. That was the way it always was in meditation. Then images entered their minds, unbidden. Customarily, Spock saw before him a wheel of stars in the night sky, but this night it was different. Before him he saw the planet Vulcan, the sky blackened. He could feel an evil presence, quite similar to that which he felt in this land where his body was. The beauty of Vulcan's temples had been destroyed and there were Vulcans murdering those who would not bow to their will. Was this scene from Vulcan's dark history before the race had conquered their emotions? Before Spock could discern this, there was a great read fire, piercing through the darkness. It blinded him and nearly made him cry out.

"Captain Spock!" Saavik's alarmed voice broke into his thoughts. "Novac is gone!"

Rathac still sat beside the old man, whose name, he had discovered was Vardil. Most of the other soldiers had retired to bed so that only he, Vardil, and Cirdan remained.

"Shall we break camp and march for our homes tomorrow, lord Cirdan?" Vardil proposed. The Elf nodded.

"Lord Cirdan, I have no place to go. Our village was destroyed by the enemy," Rathac said after Vardil had left.

"You and your companions may come to my dwelling with me, if you wish, Rathac."

"How did you know it was I?"

"Do not be alarmed. Being an Elf, I have very acute senses. I recognized your voice; You did not betray yourself. Listen, I know not who you and your companions are, or where you come from, but I trust you for some reason which I cannot explain. I will tell no one you were here. You have my word. If you wish, I shall also provide your comrades with armor such as that which you wear."

"I am most grateful, my lord Cirdan," Rathac bowed and he began to leave, but paused beside the Elf. "Use great caution with that burden you bear." Cirdan nodded and Rathac disappeared into the night. Neither he nor Cirdan noticed the eyes in the darkness that were fixed upon the Elf.

The room on Vulcan went black all of a sudden. Even Elrond could see nothing. It was as if they had all been blinded. Isildur drew his sword, which he had insisted on keeping with him. Amanda let out a frightened gasp.

"Please, put it away, Isildur," Sarek calmly requested. "Your violence will achieve nothing."

"Does this happen often?" Elrond asked.

"No," was Sarek's reply. "Whatever darkness this is, I have not seen it before." A dark chill passed down Elrond's spine. There was a feeling of dread in the room, an irrepressible fear.

"Could it be?" Elrond wondered aloud. Isildur looked where he assumed the Elf stood.

"It could not be! He was destroyed!" Isildur said hastily. Elrond didn't respond. He didn't have to, for both he and the Gondorian knew in their hearts that it was true. Sauron was there.

_A/N Please review. Thank you for reading. Also, the man named Boromir in this chapter is not the same one who is in Lord of the Rings. If he was, he would have to be 3,000 years old. Also, if anyone knows about when Gandalf comes to Middle Earth, that would be very helpful for future chapters. Thanks again. MornieGalad_


	4. Paths and Fire

_Disclaimer: I still do not own this. Sorry about the long time I took to update, but it didn't change that. Fascinating, huh? Oh, yes, just a reminder Boromir in this story is not the Boromir in Lord of the Rings. Thank you everyone who reviewed the last chapter & please don't forget to review this one. _

_MorniëGalad

* * *

_

**Chapter Four:  
****Paths and Fires**

"Where have you been, Ensign?" Spock inquired as Novac silently entered the tent.

"I apologize if my absence was inappropriate, Captain. I felt the fresh air was necessary for my meditation." Saavik nodded.

"Very well, Ensign," Spock replied. "Did you see Ensign Rathac while you were out of doors?"

"Yes, I did. He should return soon, I believe. I was not seen, though, for I remained behind the tents and in the shadows."

"That was a logical action," Saavik admitted.

"Thank you. Most of the people are now asleep in their tents, so Ensign Rathac will have no difficulty returning to us." A moment later, a figure clad in armor entered the room, not saying a word.

"Speak," Spock commanded.

"I am Boromir, son of Vardil and I demand to know who you are and where you are from!"

"I regret I cannot tell you that at this time," Spock replied calmly.

"You might say that to the Elven captain, or even to my father, but you shall not place a veil over my eyes. Your reluctance to speak proves what I believed from the start. You are spies who seek to win safety now that your master has been destroyed."

"We are not spies," Saavik declared simply.

"Then, why do you not say what you are? You are cowards and you shall die the deaths of cowards." The man drew his sword and, just as he prepared to advance on them, an armored arm slunk from behind the folds of the tent door and a hand tightened about Boromir's neck. The soldier crumpled to the ground. Soundlessly, Rathac, the armored figure, lifted the unconscious man and carried him through the lines of tents to the place where the center fire was smouldering to little more than ashes. The final sparks flickered and disappeared as Rathac placed the man on the ground. The stars lit his path as he made his way back to his comrades.

"Do not be alarmed; it is I," he whispered as he pulled the flap aside and entered the tent.

"Who was that, Rathac? Did you speak with him?" Saavik asked.

Rathac told them of all he had seen and heard. When he spoke of the ring, even the light breeze, which had constantly danced with the tent flap, stopped, and it seemed that the stars had grown darker and the voice of Rathac had softened. In the moments after his tale had been concluded, silence filled the room.

"Perhaps you should remove your armor, Ensign," Novac suggested. Rathac complied.

"I shall be grateful for a few hours without its weight. Lord Cirdan will come before the dawn with armor for us all." Once again, a dark silence filled the room. "I apologize if the information I gathered was inadequate."

"No, Rathac, you did well," Spock replied. "You were cautious and logical in your inquiries so as not to reveal your identity."

"Yet Cirdan recognized him despite it all," Novac said, meeting Rathac's eyes for a moment.

"Yes," Rathac whispered, bowing his head. "I found I could not have prevented it. Perhaps if someone with more experience had gone. . ."

"Rathac," Spock and Saavik spoke at the same time. Spock continued "The thing that has past cannot be altered. Therefore, what might have been is irrelevant. The important factor is for this experience to add to your knowledge. Thus, the future can be altered through this experience." Rathac raised his head and nodded.

"We should sleep now," Saavik advised. "Our strength will be needed tomorrow when we venture out with Lord Cirdan." The four Vulcans lay on the ground and were all asleep within moments.

* * *

"Do you know what is causing this darkness?" Sarek asked.

"Yes, we do. There can be no doubt about it," Elrond replied. "It is the dark lord Sauron from our world. I do not know how he yet possesses his power, though, for I saw Isildur cut the ring of power from his finger and I saw him destroyed, yet he is here."

Silently, so as not to alarm Amanda, Isildur drew his sword once more. Slowly, he slipped through the darkness to the door of Sarek's house. It made no sound as the handle moved under his unseen fingers and it opened as silently as if the world had become deaf. One foot left the house of darkness and entered the dark, lightless world as the other followed. Behind him, the door closed of its own accord.

Isildur could see nothing. He could be certain of nothing save the sword he clutched tightly in his hand. He could feel nothing save the darkness, which had no true sensation, being neither warm nor cold. It held only anger and power. He suddenly felt desperate, almost afraid. Sauron's return meant he had failed, he thought. No, he had been so certain, but now the truth, the black truth of it all, was before his eyes, covering the planet as the sunlight should have.

"I am Isildur, son of Elendil and heir to the throne of the Numënorian land of Gondor. I do not fear thee, Sauron of Mordor, and I do not call thee Lord. I struck at you once and I shall do so again if ever you escape the fear which hides you in this darkness. By the blood of my father Elendil, high king of Gondor, you shall pay for the crimes you have committed against our people and the world of Middle Earth. The darkness that you are shall be bathed in light." Isildur thrust his sword above his head, his hand tight around it. For an instant, the tip of the blade twinkled like a star in the heavens.

"Isildur!" Elrond cried, grasping him and dragging him inside the house. "Do not be a fool. Is Sauron not the deceiver? What better way to deceive is there than to draw people into the darkness? Deception can only be defeated by the truth."

"I uttered no falsehood!" Isildur protested, struggling to escape the Elf's hold on him.

"Anger will solve nothing," Sarek's calm voice said, sounding distant and unfeeling to Isildur's ears. "The fire of light must be kindled with patience, knowledge, and wisdom. Those who hurl a torch blindly may well start a disastrous blaze, costing many lives."

"Those are your people whose minds will be corrupted. Do you not see it? Do you not care?"

"I care, Isildur," Sarek answered, sounding weary. "I am a Vulcan, though. Our race learned ages ago to repress our emotions so they cannot possess us. I have faith that my people will withstand Sauron's advances until a solution can be found."

At that instant, a small flame appeared. "I found a candle," Amanda explained as the light drew closer and was placed on the table. Slowly, Isildur returned his sword to his sheath.

* * *

Rathac felt the earth vibrate slightly against his head. Footsteps! They were approaching the tent and there was not time enough for Rathac to don his armor. His only hope was that it was Cirdan who was coming. It was early dawn, for though the sun had not yet risen, the stars were fading. The flap of the tent was drawn aside.

"Good morning, Lord Cirdan," Rathac greeted the Elf, rising when he saw that it was indeed he. He hastened to aid him with his load, for true to his word, Cirdan bore three suits of armor, like in kind to that which he himself wore.

"Awaken your friends soon, for we leave at dawn," Cirdan whispered and then left. Spock rose before Rathac could say a word.

"Saavik, Novac, we must be leaving soon," the captain said, giving Saavik a gentle nudge. They both awoke and soon four soldiers stood where they had. The sun was peering over the edge of the world now.

"I would have liked to have a bit more time to practice walking in this," Saavik commented. She, Spock, and Novac were having some difficulty walking in their new attire, though Spock was more adaptable to the conditions than either of the others. Rathac, who had already had a bit of experience from the night before, looked almost natural in his shining armor.

"Mister Saavik, do not forget that you are not to speak, for that would betray our identities," Novac reminded her. Saavik nodded, though Novac could scarcely see her beneath his helmet.

"The dawn is upon us," Rathac observed. "We must find Lord Cirdan. Come." He led them through the lines of soldiers disassembling their bivouacs. They found the Elf lord near the center of the camp, surrounded by a multitude of other soldiers. Cirdan motioned to them to come to his side. As the warriors marched, the four disguised Vulcans made their way forward through the troops to him.

"These are my kindred," he whispered when the Vulcans had come to his side. "They are mostly from the realms of Lòthlòrien, Mirkwood, and the newly formed realm of Imladris, which Lord Elrond, who vanished along with Gilgalad and Isildur, founded. Once they have returned to their homes, I shall show you my dwelling in Mithlond, the Grey Havens. If I do say so myself, it is a beautiful place, just as Lorien and Imladris are."

Before long the plain on which the army had been camping faded into the distance and they began to climb up steep mountains. Novac and Saavik slipped quite a bit on the rough terrain due to the extra weight they were carrying, falling behind Cirdan. Spock and Rathac aided them as much as possible, but the four of them easily fell to the back of the lines. The entire day was spent venturing up and down the mountains.

As the sun set, they descended the final cliff in sight, much to their relief. The Elves had set up camp at the base of the mountain by the time the last of the group arrived. The assembly had greatly diminished without the Gondorians, but the same tent formation of a few parallel rows remained. Fires had been lit between them and dinner was being prepared. Cirdan sat alone beside the remotest fire in one of the corners. The four Vulcans processed through the camp, more comfortably than they had that morning, for they had become a bit more accustomed to their attire.

"I hope the day was not too difficult for you," Cirdan whispered as they sat down. "Tomorrow will be easier, for the Plains of Dagorlad lie before us."

"That is a relief," Novac whispered.

"Here," Cirdan said, drawing a wafer from his bag. "Have a bite of this. It's lembas bread and will sustain you for a day." Each Vulcan took a bite and then Rathac handed the remainder of the wafer back to the Elf. They soon retired to their tents and engaged in the ritual meditation, their armor still on their backs. Once again, Spock saw the image of his home planet in jeopardy.

They traveled in this manner for days. On the evening of the eighth day, they arrived on the borders of the land of Lòthlòrien.


End file.
